I sit and concentrate and try hard. Not to hate my enemies. I try to picture them dressed up. As furry little bunnies. But when I look into their glass eyes.
Maybe you think it's the new new wave. Well all it is is just another rave. Maybe it looks like the writing's on the wall. But you've seen it before, it's another death pall.
Once there was this kid who. Got into an accident and couldn't come to school. But when he finally came back. His hair had turned from black into bright white.
I want to start again. With out the end of human. It's rammed down our throats. How women fought for votes. I don't want to vote. I know they struggled, but I don't want to vote anymore.
Once there was this kid who. Got into an accident and couldn't come to school. But when he finally came back. His hair had turned from black to bright white.
Fight war, not wars. Fight war, not wars. Fight war, not wars. Fight war, not wars. . Fight war, not wars. Fight war, not wars. Fight war, not wars. .
I am a product, I am a symbol of endless. Hopeless, fruitless, aimless games. I'm a glossy packages on the supermarket shelf. My contents aren't fit for human consumption.
Once there was this kid who. Got into an accident and couldn't come to school. But when he finally came back. His hair had turned from black into bright white.
Oh you are a mucky kid. Dirty as a dustbin lid. When he hears the things that you did. You'll get a belt from your dad. . You really have your old man's nose.
Is there anyone prepared to tell me why?. Tell me why I'm being sucked dry?. Oh yes, that is yours and this is mine. As long as the balance is out, that's fine.
Just don't tell the things you know. Never show the things you see. Let's keep this little secret with you and me. . First come outside here with me. I know it's night, but I can see -.
You shit-head slimy got it alls. You crap-eyed ghosts with greasy balls. You wicked matron stabbing hard,. Grabbing while the going's good. Administrators vicious smile.
Rise up on your feet again. Wake yourself from your sleep. Seems it never ever ends. Like an ocean cold and deep. . Let it feel like something else. Let it be a breeze.
They won't fucking listen, they won't fucking listen, they won't fucking listen,. They won't fucking listen, they won't fucking listen, they won't fucking listen,.
"Do They Owe Us a Living". by Crass (c) 1977. Fuck the politically minded. Here's something I want to say. About the state of the nation. The way it treats us todayAt school they give you shit.
There is a path by Lake Bras d'Or. I never go there anymore. It's not the same, since you and I. The path is narrow, over-grown. The few that thread there, thread alone.
I am not he, nor master, nor lord. No crown to wear, no cross to bear in stations. I am not he, nor shall be, warlord of nations. These heroes have run before me, now dead upon the flesh piles, see?.
Rumour spreadin' a-'round in that texas town. 'bout that shack outside la grange. And you know what I'm talkin' about.. Just let me know if you wanna go.
Tired bored sad people, tired bored sad lives. Endless cars on endless roadways endless shopfronts with endless lies. Even the winners, even the punters, tight lipped packages, think it's bad.
Who put the doggy in the doghouse?. You did, baby you did. Who put your granny in the granny house?. You did, baby you did, baby. . Who put the bad in the madhouse?.